


Giving up - Carson series

by writehard_whumpharder



Category: Original Work
Genre: Carson Hall - Freeform, Carson series, Dehydration, Depression, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Exhaustion, Fainting, High School, Hospital, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lack of Sleep, Medical, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Neglect, Nosebleed, Read at Your Own Risk, Self-Harm, Severe Depression, Sort Of, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, basically Carson has a lot of problems, collapse, implied eating disorder, medical whump, read the tags, teenage Carson, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writehard_whumpharder/pseuds/writehard_whumpharder
Summary: Carson has always struggled with depression but it was particularly bad when he was a junior in high school when this story takes place. (He is 16 here) Poor mental health and social isolation is causing him to self destruct and neglect his health. He is ready to give up and doesn't care about much anymore. All these things catch up to him when he passes out at school and gets taken to the hospital where all his problems are laid out in the open. He's in for a difficult conversation with his mom.  PHYSICAL and EMOTIONAL WHUMP.
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**_\-----Trigger Warning----_** **This chapter is heavily focused on mental illness, mild drug use, and eating disorders. Do not read if you find any of these subjects triggering. This part of Carson’s story is particularly dark.**

Carson stared at himself for an unknown amount of time. He couldn't really remember what he was doing in the school bathroom in the first place. He only knew that after he came to stand here in front of the mirror everything slowed to a stop. His feet were cemented into the ground, preventing him from moving. And he stared so closely at his own eyes that his vision started to warp. He looked tired... and he was.  It took a full two minutes to ask himself when he last slept and another two to conjure the answer. Three days ago. He'd been awake for around 62 hours now. The fatigue settled deep into his bones. He wanted to collapse at any moment, give in to the static that threatened to pull him under. But at the same time he wanted this feeling to last forever. Distantly he remembered that he was supposed to be in class, or maybe it was lunch. He didn't have any plans of eating so it didn't really matter which one he was missing.  Carson forced his muscles to move as he instructed them, using his hands to unzip his backpack and fish out the empty altoids container that was now home to a half smoked joint and some kind of cheap e-cigarette. It's not like he could get lung cancer, he'd just cure himself later.

"Life is meaningless," he muttered as he lit the joint, blowing the smoke out the propped open window. If the bathroom didn't perpetually reek of weed he might be worried about getting caught. The other kids were too scared of him to tattle. He may or may not have played up his psychic abilities so they were convinced he'd really find out anything they said about him behind his back. The bathroom door squeaked open and Carson started to put out the joint before seeing it was some child, a freshman obviously. "Get lost." He said through a cloud of smoke. The kid disappeared without a fight. They always did. Now that he was free from his temporary catatonic state and proved capable of moving and speaking, Carson decided it was time to go find his way back to class. Maybe he'd even learn something. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Making sure the stub of the joint was completely out, Carson settled on tossing it right in the trash can as he left. The hallway was nearly empty, emptier now that he was around. The hum of the air conditioner threatened to lull him to sleep as he dragged his feet down the hallway. Any intention of going back to class was quickly abandoned when he realized he had no idea which class he was supposed to be in or even what time it was. The hallway was lined with clocks so theoretically he should be able to check but his eyes didn't cooperate when he squinted at the clock hands. Lack of sleep will do that to you.  As the effects of weed started washing over him in waves, suddenly the heaviness of Carson's black hoodie felt lovely on his skin. His hood was already up, covering his mess of dark brown hair, but he pulled it down further over his face in an attempt to breathe in every scrap of comfort it had to offer. His mom washed it for him often, embedding the sweet scent of laundry detergent into its fibers.

Carson found himself in the staircase. Naturally his feet had led him here, one of the most tranquil places in the school. The walls and stairs were painted a solid white and large windows let in the mid-afternoon sunlight. In the back of his mind he couldn't forget that this wasn't where he was supposed to be. His mom would be so sad if she received another call from the school about his frequent disappearances. She said she understood how he felt. That he needed to get away sometimes. But still, she had basic hopes for him to graduate high school and get a decent job. As of now he wasn't on track toward either of those goals because while he still got A's in most of his classes his lack of attendance was borderline truancy.

"Um, Carson?" Someone asked from the connecting hallway. Carson looked up through red, glazed over eyes. It was Pete, one of the football players in his 4th period science class.  "Mrs. Finn asked me to find you and bring you back to class." He stated plainly.

"Did she now?" Carson asked, habitually glancing at his left hand for something to smoke. Disappointment washed over him when he found it empty again.

"Yeah. She said she won't mark you up if you come back for the last 15 minutes," said Pete. Carson could tell he was trying really hard not to provoke him.

"Lucky me," Carson drawled, turning his gaze to the window beside him.

"Are you coming?" Pete asked when he'd officially lost Carson's attention again.

"Mmm, yeah I guess."

Without another word Pete turned around and allowed Carson to follow a few feet behind him. Pete wasn't so bad. He treated him more or less like everyone else did but being a tough football player he couldn't admit to being scared of him. It was refreshing to get within ten feet of someone without them flinching. Wow, he was so alone that walking vaguely near another person felt like a treat. They walked for quite a ways, showing just how far Carson had wandered. They had to go to the other end of the school and up a flight of stairs. The stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge. Carson was just so tired, physically, mentally, spiritually. That single flight of stairs took everything out of him. He had to grab onto the railing and half haul himself up with his arms. Pete waited up at the top while Carson took his sweet time with each and every step upward. Spots started to dance around his vision alarmingly but Carson wasn't about to admit that to Pete. Instead he focused on breathing a little quieter and keeping his eyes on the ground. 

"You, uh, seem different lately," Pete said experimentally.

"How so?"

"Like... you're giving in. Becoming what people think you are." Carson stopped, speechless. 

"Nevermind. What do I know?" Pete laughed nervously. 

"You think, I'm not, what people think...?" The question sounded as disassociated as Carson felt but Pete still understood him.

"I think you could be dangerous, if you wanted to be. But you're not so different from every other student here trying to get through the day. Don't prove them right."

Carson laughed and stumbled a bit, catching himself at the last moment. Pete didn't miss the slip. There was judgment in his gaze, and something else, pity. Carson almost felt bad for being stoned right now. "Shouldn't class be over by now? We've been walking for forever." Carson whined.

"It's been 3 minutes," Pete corrected. 

"Right, sure."

Pete had the decency to look forward while still slowing his pace to match Carson's. He wasn't watching when the spots took over Carson's vision again. The floor rocked beneath him, threatening to send him stumbling into the wall.  _ What's wrong with me?  _ Carson questioned himself. Maybe it was the complete lack of sleep and fuel normally used to propel a person. In any case, the carpet was looking real cozy right about now. The plaid pattern was so inviting as if to say  _ Go ahead, sleep. You could just lie down right here, right now. _

"Hey, wait a second. I wanna take a nap," Carson spoke up.

Pete spun around to dispute an impromptu nap when they were mere yards from the classroom but Carson had already resigned to the weight dragging him down. His eyes fluttered closed as the world tilted on its side. He collided with the carpet in a way that should have hurt but all he felt was warmth and oblivion. Why bother  anymore…

\---

Carson woke up in an ambulance. Not the floor where he'd fallen asleep, not the nurse's office at the school, but an ambulance speeding down the highway. Either he'd slept through the initial evaluation from the nurse or they had thought it was that urgent enough to warrant a trip straight to the hospital. It was impossible to guess how long he had been out. Carson hadn't even considered that things might get this bad. He just needed some sleep, _right?_

A paramedic fussing with some tubes noticed his eyes open and put a hand down on his shoulder in case he tried to sit up. "Just lay down and relax. We're almost to the hospital." He said with a light squeeze on his shoulder before lifting his hand away and going back to what he was doing.

"Wha's that?" Carson slurred.

"We're just starting you on an IV, you're very dehydrated. The doctor will be able to tell you more."

"Did anyone call my mom?" 

"Yes, the school is required to. I'm sure she'll meet us there as soon as she can." He said reassuringly. 

They settled back into silence, leaving only the sound of tires skidding across bumps on the freeway. The siren wasn't on, it wasn't serious enough to warrant it. Carson was left to stare up at the metal roof of the ambulance wondering just how the hell he had gotten here. It added up. The lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of water, and the lack of will to obtain any of those things for himself. No doubt his mom would lose her shit and start watching him like a hawk at home. She'd probably offer to make his favorite foods and tuck him in at night just to make sure he actually ate and slept. She'd offer to help him with his homework then stealthily have him explain it all to her, completing the assignment without even realizing it.

"We're here. There will be a little bump as we guide out the stretcher," the paramedic said. His partner who had been driving came around the back to help and as promised there was a harsh bump when the wheels hit the ground, "there we go."

A nurse met them at the door and reviewed all the information they had while directing the paramedics to transfer him to ER bay 3. The whole thing was surprisingly boring, not at all like they showed on tv. It was embarrassing too. Something about laying down while everyone else is standing.. or the fact that most of this was overkill.

"Okay, Carson Hall, aged 16, date of birth November 8th, 1992. Your home address is listed as 2447 Farelly St. Is all that information correct?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"And you lost consciousness while at school," she said, reading off a paper.

"Apparently."

"Right, well, staying unconscious for longer than 10 minutes is concerning so I'm going to ask the doctor to order some tests. I'll just check your IV, okay, looks good," she said as she poked at him and double checked that the tubes and drip speed were all correct.

"Are all those tests really necessary?" Carson asked.

"We only need a couple blood samples to run them, it'll take less than a minute of your time." She informed him.

"You know what? I just remembered I don't have health insurance," Carson said, sitting up. She didn't stop him from sitting but she practically swatted his left hand away when he tried to touch the IV site.

"Nice try but you have to stay until a parent or guardian can sign you out. Your condition isn't serious for now so we'll wait for authorization before running tests. I want to be clear with you though that while you're not actively dying, long term neglect of your health can have serious consequences." Said the nurse. There was a slight sweetness to her tone. It wasn't entirely dry and blunt like many ER nurses he's encountered. "For now, feel free to get some sleep. If you need anything you can press that red button there. Any questions?"

"No." 

The nurse dragged the curtain around his bed partially closed for some more privacy. While the ER wasn't exactly busy at that time of day she had other patients to tend to. Carson was left to sit on his bed and wait. Luckily he still had his phone in his pocket and the paramedics hadn't felt the need to cut off any of his clothing. He turned it on to find several missed calls and texts from his mom. Carson didn't like talking on the phone but she was most likely driving at the moment so texting might not be the best idea.

"Oh sweetie, how are you?" She said, voice practically dripping with sympathy.

"I'm fine. This really isn't necessary." Carson complained.

"Well the school has strict guidelines for when emergency services need to be called." 

"I was just sleeping." He insisted.

"People who are just sleeping can be woken up, honey." He couldn't argue with that. "I'm almost there, see you in a few minutes." Carson heard some honking and swearing from the other end before she hung up. Probably road raging in her hurry to get to him. His phone slipped out of his hand as he involuntarily dozed off again. When he woke up both his mom and the doctor were standing over him.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"The doctor is explaining your test results," his mom said quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. He didn't even notice she was holding it until then.

"Don't you need to take blood samples or something?" 

"Already did. The hard part is over. Would you like me to start over with your results?" The doctor asked. Since he was 16 they had some obligation to speak directly to him as the patient. 

"Nah. It doesn't matter," Carson dismissed him.

"Actually it does matter. And I suspect you know that," the doctor challenged.

"Just get on with it so I can go home. I can go home right?"

"Yes, your mom can discharge you as soon as we establish a treatment plan." The doctor said calmly.

"A treatment plan for what?" Carson snapped.

The doctor took a deep breath as if what she was about to explain could take a while. "Well we're fairly certain your episode at school was caused by severe lack of sleep as well as severe dehydration. The problem goes beyond that though. You're also showing early signs of malnourishment. The blood test shows several vitamin deficiencies and anemia. The drug test..." Carson's eyes went wide, they did a drug test too?? "...came back positive for marijuana, nicotine, alcohol, and prescription sedatives such as Xanax, Valium, Klonopin, or Ativan."

"Klonopin," Carson stated, answering the unasked question. He didn't bother to dispute any of the other substances. It was all true after all. The doctor made a note on his chart.

"The levels are fairly low so we don't believe you have a drug problem. I'm leaning toward mental illness. Depression or anxiety. It's common for symptoms to start appearing in the late teens. Does any of that sound right to you, Carson?"

Carson laid on his side and crossed his arms so he didn't have to look at the doctor who didn't seem at all surprised by his uncooperative response. When he didn't answer his mom spoke for him, "Depression, undiagnosed." Having it all out in the open now Carson felt the sudden urge to run far, far away. He could do it. No one would be able to stop him.

"I can write a prescription for antidepressants. We'd start at a low dose and see how he responds. I suggest finding a psychiatrist who can give more specialized care."

"I don't want antidepressants," Carson mumbled into his pillow.

"Are you sure you don't want medication? It is far more effective at treating depression than self-medicating which can make the problem worse."

None of this was news for him. He knew he was depressed, he also knew he wasn't handling it well on his own. "I don't want to be sedated."

"And here I thought you had a preference for sedatives," she told him, referring to the Klonopin.

"Fuck off," Carson bit, finally snapping under the tension of this entire situation. Lying helplessly on a hospital bed while his mom made sad puppy eyes at him and the doctor listed off all his flaws in medical terminology. It felt like his worst nightmare. There was a combination of fear, guilt, and bitter sadness.

"Carson!" His mom scolded, "do not talk to the doctor like that."

"It's okay. It's normal to be upset." She assured her. To Carson though the statement felt patronizing. You'd think it would feel good to have your problems be waved off as "normal" but it doesn't.

"I'll take him to see a psychiatrist for the depression and work on healthier behaviors at home." His mom said.

The doctor nodded, "Sounds like a plan. If you do find that you need more help you can always come back here or see your GP. I highly recommend getting a daily multivitamin and iron supplement at your local pharmacy. Being a nurse I'm sure you're more than qualified to monitor his eating and sleeping habits at home. If you don't have any more questions you can head on over to the front desk to sign the discharge papers."

"Okay."

"Have a nice rest of your day Mrs. Hall," the doctor said, shaking hands with his mother before leaving. Carson was still pointedly ignoring her so she just gave him a closed mouth smile without a handshake. With the doctor gone his mom's attention turned entirely to him.

"Oh, my poor baby, why didn't tell me you were struggling so much?" She asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't want to."

"Why? You know you can talk to me." 

"Because this is worse. The doctors and medications and all that. I'd rather just be at home." He whined.

"Well sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. I'll go fill out those forms then we can go straight home. Unless you want to pick up some food on the way?"

"Coffee," he mumbled. 

"No more coffee for you. You need sleep."

"Mommmm," Carson whined.

"No. You know I'm right." She said.

\---

As soon as they got in the car Carson put his earbuds in to listen to some music. His mom hated when he did that, especially when she wanted to talk to him. Figuring he had already been through enough that day she let it slide this time. At each red light she glanced over at him, taking note of the way his giant black hoodie hung on his bony shoulders. All the signs were there, today was just the tipping point. Deep down she blamed herself like it was somehow her fault he ended up with magic. She wanted her son to have friends, socialize, and have fun. But he was so completely isolated, closed off from the world on both his end and theirs. 

Once they got home she made sure he went to sleep on the couch before ducking out to go to the pharmacy. Carson napped for maybe five minutes before a spark of anxiety woke him up again. He didn't want to sleep and eat proper meals, take vitamins and see a therapist. He wanted to see how far he could go like this. He wanted his suffering to be so loud he couldn't think anymore. He had a number of ways to stop thinking.

Carson didn't hesitate to go out on the back porch and fish the plastic bag out of the bushes next to the deck where he hid his weed. He had maybe 20 minutes before his mom got back, plenty of time to get stoned and go up to his room. Everything felt right with the world while he held the joint between his fingers breathing it in every time he felt the need. A haze settled over the backyard and suddenly the breeze blowing through the tall maple tree was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It was like the whole incident at the hospital never even happened. He wondered what it would be like to go to school tomorrow. Maybe it was just Pete who saw him pass out. Carson sure hoped he was the only one in the hallway. Truthfully he didn't remember it too clearly. 

Carson sort of lost track of time and had to hide his stuff quickly then run upstairs at the sound of the car in the driveway. His mom would easily smell the lingering scent of weed in the air but at least he had done it outside. Mere seconds after he jumped into bed he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Carson, we still have a lot to talk about." She called out.  There was no lock on his door, it had originally been a closet so why would there be? Instead he sent just a hint of magic into the wards drawn onto his door that would keep anyone from entering. She turned the knob uselessly.  "Carson, unlock this door." She demanded.

"No."

"I'm serious. It's not cool to use your magic against me like that."

"Go away."

"Not until you open the door."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would I open the door to make you go away? That's counterproductive." He argued.

She sighed. If he was arguing, he was probably fine, she reasoned. "Fine. I'll give you some more time but we will talk about this. Don't forget about your homework."  Carson pulled the covers over his head. He didn't really know what to do. He didn't want to change. His mom was going to plan everything out for him, force him to be healthy. The school might even insist on having a meeting with both of them. 

All at once the walls of his room started to cave in on him. The tiny space just large enough for a twin bed felt even tinier. It was suffocating. He hastily pushed open his window and took in a desperate breath of fresh air. He needed to get out. He needed to run. And so he did. Carson used magic to orchestrate the escape from popping out the window screen to jumping off the roof onto the driveway. His mom would just have to forgive him.


	2. Giving Up Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After promising his mom he'd do better, Carson finds that it's not so easy to give up all his unhealthy coping mechanisms at once so he keeps up his old habits while picking up a new one as well. Follow up to chapter one with a little whump mixed in (nosebleed and minor collapse). TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM.

_**Trigger Warning**_ Carson is still in a very dark frame of mind and isn't dealing with it well. Do not read if you have issues with self harming behaviors including drug use.

The new schedule was killing him. He was sure of it. Between the mandatory eight hours of sleep and family dinners Carson was left feeling... healthy. But when his body was no longer screaming at him, his mind was. Now there was nothing left to dull it. He stared up at his ceiling night after night craving destruction. Anything to distract him from it.

Yesterday morning in the shower Carson tried another way of coping. He didn't want to turn to this but he was losing his mind. The razor was right there, 6 shiny new blades in it. He banged it on the edge of the tub twice to dislodge one before giving up and using magic to pry it free. The blade was tiny but sharp. He didn't hesitate to grip it between his fingers and drag it along the skin of his thigh making a shallow cut 8 inches long. Most people would start with a small slash but he wasn't most people. Blood started to ooze out immediately, dripping down his calf into the bottom of the tub. He watched it mix with the water and swirl down the drain. The cut stung a bit but not enough, he'd have to go deeper. Creating a second line parallel to the first, Carson started applying more pressure. After a few seconds his mind went white with pain. It was glorious. He sank down to sit in the tub as he dragged it along further. His heart rate sped up as something was triggered in him. He should be panicking but instead he thought nothing at all. The nerves in his thigh screamed so loud that they drowned out everything else. This was the feeling he was looking for. 

"Carson, time to get out. You still need to get dressed and ready for school," his mom said, banging on the door. There was only one bathroom in their house so what she really meant was  _ stop hogging the bathroom so I can get ready for work. _

"Okay," he called back then made to stand. Pain shot through his leg when he put weight on it, forcing the muscles in his thigh to flex which only made the cuts bleed faster. Now that he wasn't sitting down Carson realized he felt a bit woozy. The hot steamy air certainly wasn't helping. Carefully lowering himself back to a sitting position Carson put his hand over the wounds and closed his eyes. It wasn't often that Carson used his magic to heal himself but this was an exception. He had to get rid of the evidence. All it took was a redistribution of energy and his skin started to mend itself back together seamlessly. He watched as it disappeared, and as it did, so did the pain. Whatever white hot nothingness was occupying his mind before was long gone and he was back to his normal self.

After drying off Carson stood in front of the mirror noticing how even though he was sleeping again the dark circles remained as a testament to how mentally tired he was.  _ Okay Carson, time to stop thinking about this. Put all those feelings in a box for later. _ He told himself. Hearing the bathroom door open his mom dashed out of her room with a bag in her hand so she could get ready for work. She didn't even complain when Carson spent half an hour in the shower leaving her only 5 minutes to make herself presentable. 

"There's breakfast downstairs, honey. Go eat it before it gets cold!" She yelled to him. 

Slipping on a dark flannel shirt Carson made his way downstairs to choke down whatever his mom had put so much effort into making. Eggs and hashbrowns.  _ This would taste so much better if I was high. _ ..  _ Actually this entire morning would have been better if I was high...  _ There wasn't any time now to go smoke but he could replenish his backpack stash while his mom was in the bathroom. By the time she came back out he'd be back at the dining table innocently eating his eggs.

"Hey mom. I was thinking I should get my own car." He later said around a mouthful of salty hashbrowns.

"What? Why would you need your own car?" With her back turned she poured two mugs of coffee, one for her, one for Carson.

"I'm 16 and I have my license so why not?" 

"Cars are expensive and it's unnecessary. We can share my car."

"But your car is always parked outside the hospital." He argued.

"I know but do you really need to be going out at night, getting into trouble?" She asked. Her voice shifted into that sweet but firm tone when she was about to invoke parental authority and say no.

"I just want a car and I'll find a way to pay for it myself." Carson slurped his coffee angrily the second it was passed to him.

"I just don't like the sound of it. Especially when you're..."

"On probation?" 

"No, of course not." She stammered.

"It's true. You watch my every move and I'm getting really tired of it." He snapped.

"I don't want to end the conversation like this but we're out of time. I'll drop you off at school on my way to work."

"I'll walk."

"No, I'll drive you."

They hurried into the car and Carson stuffed his backpack down by his feet. They were rolling out of the driveway before he even got his seatbelt buckled.

"What are you doing in school today?" She asked.

"Tedious bullshit," Carson replied.

"Ah, sounds like high school," she said with fake cheer. At least she didn't try to deny that it sucks. Depending on what he said next he might get sucked into the "why school is important" speech. Just to be safe he turned on the radio instead. His mom had it set to an 80's station.

"I hate school," Carson grumbled to himself, kicking his backpack out of vengeance.

"Just one more year and you'll get your diploma. We can frame it and everything, put it up as a relic from your time in the war."

"You mean school."

"I know what I said." 

A few minutes and one Tears for Fears song later they pulled into the school parking lot at top speed, coming to a jerky stop next to the sidewalk leading up to the front doors. Carson's head slammed back into the seat from momentum.

"Fuck, mom." He cursed.

"No time. Go, go, hurry, run." She cheered.

Carson hopped out of the car and merged with the crowd of kids entering the school. They all gave him plenty of space of course, as was standard with him. It was kind of hard to believe he was walking in there with his own two feet. To willingly walk straight into hell is truly a bizarre thought.

He spent the first two periods scribbling in his notebook to pass the time having finished the assignments within the first ten minutes of class. He was no artist but drawing angry, erratic lines with his pen was the only thing he could do to keep sane anymore. 

During third period math as he was busy turning his white notebook paper black, someone raised their hand to go to the bathroom. The weird part though was when the teacher denied them, saying everyone needed to stay in the room. That caught his attention as well as everyone else in the room who had something to hide. It could only be one thing, a random search, just what he needed.

Carson quickly took everything out of his bag that he might need, not knowing when he'd be able to open it again. He took a moment to thank his past self for doing all that research into magical wards last summer. With his school supplies on his desk and his earbuds and ipod shuffle in his pocket Carson zipped it all up and activated the wards. It seemed like overkill for half a gram of pot but he was already on thin ice with the school and wasn't about to take any chances. 

Not a second later the door opened and in walked the principal, a police officer,  _ and _ a dog. They must have received a tip on some contraband to actually bring the dog into the classroom. 

"Everyone stay in your seats. Out of respect to your privacy we won't be searching everyone's bags. Just allow the police dog to do his job and then you can resume your class," the principal announced. The whole class breathed a collective sigh of relief at that. Carson however hadn't thought about warding against the  _ smell _ of the weed. It was wrapped up pretty well but not so well that a dog wouldn't catch it. They let the german shepherd loose to walk up and down each row of students sniffing vigorously. It actually looked a bit like Ellie except for the fact that this one was big and scary while she was some sort of pint sized german shepherd mixed with a smaller breed. It didn't take long for it to get to the back of the room, following a scent straight to Carson's backpack. Loud barking echoed around the small classroom and the police officer came to collect the dog.

"Carson, please open your bag for us." He asked politely. Plopping it down on his desk Carson made a big show out of pulling on the zipper. 

"Oh no, it seems to be stuck." He said sarcastically. 

Not believing him for a second the cop tried opening it himself. He yanked on every zipper on all five pockets. None of them budged.

"What did you do to this?" He asked with exasperation.

"Nothing, it's an old backpack. Sometimes it gets stuck." Carson shrugged.

"We have reason to believe you have illegal substances in your bag and can open it by force if necessary." The officer informed him.

"By all means. Open it by force," he taunted. A few kids snickered, catching on to what he was doing. They didn't know much about his magic but it didn't take a genius to figure out it was some kind of trick.

"Well we won't waste any more of your class time. Carson Hall, please follow us to the principal's office." 

Carson gathered up his math homework to hand to his teacher on his way out then followed them all the way to the office for more useless attempts to open the bag. The police officer first tried to cut the zipper off with wire cutters only to then break both the blades. He took a pair of scissors to the canvas fabric which was equally unsuccessful.

"I can't get it open," the police officer told the principal.

"Keep trying."

"Really, I'd need more equipment to do it and we aren't allowed to bring such equipment onto school property on account of it being too dangerous."

"Well then we'll confiscate the whole bag."

"Without proof of illegal possession we can't take a student's personal belongings."

"This is clearly a special case." He argued.

"Unfortunately, there is no exception clause for indestructible backpacks."

Carson barely managed to contain the laugh that threatened to escape him. This was getting ridiculous but watching the two fight was more interesting than his math class so he had nothing to complain about.

"Third period is going to start soon, can I go now?"

"No. Yes. Ugh," the principal stammered. He couldn't let him go free but he couldn't justify keeping him there either. "Have Mrs. Shirley give you a pass on your way out and take the stupid bag with you. If I catch you with drugs on school property again you will not be so lucky." He threatened.

"Don't worry, Mr. Brown. You won't catch me doing anything," he smiled. Behind a wall of professionalism Carson could tell that the principal wanted nothing more than to strangle him in that moment but all he could do was watch Carson leave with his late pass.

\---

When lunch finally rolled around Carson couldn't wait to get out. He pushed through the side doors and ran, actually ran, out to the soccer fields behind the school. The spring air was still a bit brisk but it was worth it to get some peace and quiet. As usual the soccer fields weren't entirely empty but it was good enough. A group of guys hung around the far side of the field kicking a ball around to use the field for its intended purpose. 

"Yo Carson, watch out," someone yelled. He was far off to the side but still in the danger zone apparently. He used his magic to stop the soccer ball hurtling towards him, turning it right back around to return it to the players.

Pete walked off the field toward him a moment later. Carson recognized him immediately with him being like 6'3" and built like a... a... he couldn't think of a simile for overly buff guy. Carson didn't miss the way he stopped a solid 10-15 feet away from him.

"So... about the other day."

"Yeah, about that. Was anyone else around in the hallway?" He asked.

"No."

"Good."

"I'm sure they saw the ambulance though. They know something happened, they just don't know what." Pete explained. That sounded about right. The school was probably circulating several different rumors about the incident, merely guessing at who it was.

"I really just meant to take a nap," Carson said.

"If that's how you nap you must be really bad at it." Pete joked. It felt weird to be talking to him.

"I already know what you want to ask, so just say it," Carson said. He actually had no idea what he was getting at but there was a question waiting on the tip of his tongue from the moment he approached him. Pretending to know what it was would only reinforce the "psychic powers" rumor that Carson readily abused the shit out of.

"Isn't it your lunch break?" He asked.

"That's not your question but yeah, I guess it is." If only to make his mom happy he pulled his lunch box out of his bag and found some crackers to munch on.

"I just want to know... what's, uh, what's going on... with you." Pete said. Carson watched every ounce of confidence drain from him in that moment. One of the toughest guys in school and he was still reduced to a rambling, timid mess in front of him. He could only guess that the sudden show of concern came from not wanting to go to school with a ticking time bomb. The only thing more dangerous than a teen magician was a mentally unstable one.

"Let me ask you something. Have you seen it? The other side. The thing after death. The blackhole, garbage shoot that is waiting for every living thing on this earth?"

"First, no. And second, that has to be the most emo thing I've ever heard." 

Carson sat up suddenly, "You see that dead dandelion right there?" He waited for a nod before continuing. "To bring something even as small as that dandelion back to life I'd have to grab it's soul from the other side. That's what I do." His voice took on a hard tone. He wasn't mad, at least not at Pete, but he couldn't talk about this sort of thing without getting tense and frustrated. "Look.” In the time that Pete took to look away Carson made a connection with the plant and restored that dandelion to full bloom. And yes, he had to glimpse deep into that blackhole to do it. Everything came with a price.

"Shit. Do you think you could do that trick on my failing biology project?" Pete laughed.

"Sure, I'd do it for a cup of coffee." 

"Oh..." Pete trailed off having meant it as a rhetorical question. "I heard someone was caught in the random search this morning." He said, changing the subject.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me." Carson rummaged around in the bottom of his backpack for the altoids container. He pulled out the neatly packed joint and started looking for his lighter.

"Haha what am I even doing?" He asked himself, feeling stupid.

"Yeah what are you doing?" Pete asked skeptically.

Carson produced a small blue flame from his finger tip and lit the end of the joint, taking a deep long drag from it. He coughed on the smoke and looked back up at Pete. "Sorry were you saying something?" Carson asked, already taking another hit.

"Wait, how do you still have that?" Pete asked, looking puzzled.

"Wards on the inside of the bag. Not even a grenade could open it so naturally they gave up after a while."

"Huh. Well... I should be getting back." He was obviously uncomfortable with Carson's blatant use of magic.

"Right." Carson watched him jog away to his group of friends, leaving Carson alone to resume his lunch, or nap, or whatever he was doing. His eyes moved down to his left hand again looking for something to smoke. He couldn't tell if the habit came from a budding addiction or the more general need to quiet down his brain in some way. One thing was certain though, anything was better than sobriety. He found school tolerable, almost enjoyable actually when he was high. Before he knew it he'd smoked the entire joint and made a decent dent in his sandwich too.  _ Not bad, Carson. Not bad at all. _ Now that his head was all floaty and his limbs felt about ready to grow roots into the ground he decided it was time for a nap. Warding his bag just in case Carson put his things away, pulled up his hood, and laid down.

\---

Carson jolted awake from a kick to the leg. He was surprised to see Pete standing over him again. "4th period. Let's go," said Pete, moving to stand in his field of vision. "No time for any more naps."

Carson blinked up at him, ignoring the way the bright sky seared straight through his eyeballs and into his brain. "Since when do you care?”

"Since I need the extra credit to pass this class. We really don't have time to waste." He said, tapping his non-existent watch.

"What extra credit?"

Pete sighed, "The extra credit Mrs. Finn offered me if I can successfully drag you to class." 

"So some kind of babysitter, is that it?" Carson asked, still deciding whether or not to be pissed about the secret arrangement.

"I think of myself more as a Shepherd, leading back the sheep that is too stoned to know the west wing of the school from the right."

"I know where I'm going."

"Sure you do. Also I hope you have some eyedrops in there because your eyes are fucked, man." 

Carson reluctantly got up while brushing grass from his clothes. His neck was a little sore from using his backpack full of hardcover textbooks as a pillow. Pete was right, they really didn't have time to waste. If he hadn't woken him up he probably would have slept straight through biology. Certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Remembering what Mr. Brown had said about catching him with drugs he figured he should at least be subtle about being high. Again wasting energy to heal himself he sent some energy into his eyes to get rid of the redness as well as a dull ache he didn't even know was there until it was gone.

"Better?" He asked Pete. 

"Yeah how did you... nevermind."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Since the first bell already rang most kids were in their classrooms with just the occasional person running to make it on time. "Hustle, come on. We're gonna be late. I  _ need _ these points. No Carson, no credit." Pete urged.

"Um," he mumbled.

"Really why are you so slow?" 

"Hold on a sec," Carson said quietly.

"We don't have a..." he turned around, "oh, shit."

"Yeah, shit," Carson repeated. He held both hands over his nose but even then it wasn't enough to catch the blood. His fingers quickly turned red as it dripped between them. "I need to clean this up."

Pete scratched his head, "okay."

"So do your job. Lead me to the bathroom." 

"You can't find it yourself?"

"Things are a little fuzzy." Carson admitted.

"Coach says that disorientation or dizziness with nosebleeds is a red flag."

"Yeah, well, it's a different kind of nosebleed." Carson said. He knew that the dizziness that came from these couldn't possibly be from blood loss. More likely he was just the smallest, tiniest, littlest bit squeamish about blood…

"This way."

Carson's vision blurred in and out for a second as a weakness settled over his body. The blood continued to pour out of his nose like a faucet as it usually did, making any attempt to save his shirt futile from here on out. "I can't see which way you're pointing."

"Oh for fucks sake," Pete cursed. He grabbed Carson's sleeve, carefully avoiding his skin, and pulled him forward. Carson stumbled but recovered, "It's literally right around the corner, idiot."

"All the corners in this school look the same," he whined. It was true, they did all look the same and the only difference between the east and the west wing was that they mirrored each other.

Pete pushed open the bathroom door with his shoulder and pulled Carson inside. "Hurry up, now I'm late too."

"Feel free to leave," Carson said as he leaned over the sink. He glanced up into the mirror to confirm that blood was indeed everywhere. It stained his shirt, it dripped down his chin, his hands were still dripping with it, and some even trailed down his neck. Fantastic. As annoyed as he was Carson knew that this was entirely his fault. Being careless with his magic when already in bad condition was a recipe for disaster. To his surprise Pete didn't make any move to leave. He just leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms in a way that was probably meant to be casual but looked more intimidating than anything else. "I've been wondering. Why did Mrs. Finn offer you extra credit to bring me to class?"

"Because she wants you to succeed?" Pete guessed.

"No I mean why you specifically." Carson dabbed at his nose with a rough paper towel, disappointed to see that it was still bleeding albeit a little slower now.

"Because... the other students are scared of you."

"And you're not?" 

"Scared of scrawny wimp like you? Hell no." He said defensively.

Carson tried to laugh but it sounded muffled and nasally with his nose all plugged up with blood. "Ironic isn't it?"

"Yeah I guess." Pete laughed too. "It's kind of..."

Pete continued to talk but Carson could no longer hear him. His hearing cut out suddenly, replacing all sound with a high pitched ringing in his ears. The sink in front of him swam in his vision, warping in and out of focus before tilting. Only the sink wasn't tilting, he was. 

"Carson? What are you..." Pete watched in confusion as Carson's eyes glazed over and he listed to the side, collapsing onto the floor. He managed to keep one hand holding onto the rim of the sink to slow his fall and landed in a heap, holding himself up with his arms.

Breathing. All he could hear was his own breathing, in and out, in and out. It was deafeningly loud in his head but comforting at the same time. In and out. In and out. His vision dissolved into dim, blurry shapes. This happens sometimes with nosebleeds, a sort of head rush. Carson knew it would pass in a minute, so in the meantime he focused only on breathing, not at all concerned about what was going on around him. Without warning, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and Carson jumped, leaning away from the touch. Pete withdrew his hand immediately at the response. It was best not to sneak up on Carson. While Pete didn't know about it, he had a strong self defense mechanism of burning any hand that touched him without permission.

"Ca... can y- Car... me?" 

Carson panted, merely guessing at what Pete had said, "huh.. h... yeah, kind of."

"Wha-s g-in nn," Pete asked another question.

"Just a second. Fine in a second." Carson told him. Already his hearing was becoming less choppy as a fog lifted from his mind. He wasn't sure why this sometimes happened with nosebleeds but it probably had something to do with the fact that the blood dripped all the way down from his brain, not from somewhere in his sinuses. It was sort of like a minor stroke actually... Carson tried not to focus on that fact though. Whatever damage was caused would be healed with rest. Rest that he had little intention of getting... 

"Ugh, that's the worst part," Carson complained when he finally came back to his senses. His arms still felt a bit numb and weak but that was the only lingering symptom.

"If this is gonna happen every time I try to drag you to 4th period, I'd be better off without it." Pete said. He was squatting down next to Carson by the sinks, closer than most people would be willing to get to him. "If you're done we should go."

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s go," He carefully stood back up, using the wall for support. Maybe Mrs. Finn would excuse his lateness if he explained that he got a nosebleed. Not that he needed to explain when his shirt was still stained with blood. Deep down Carson knew that the nosebleed was his body’s way of screaming at him to calm the fuck down and stop healing himself just so he could hurt himself again.  _ Tough shit _ , he thought. His body was just going to have to get used to it because he didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

  
  



End file.
